Hunter's Mark
by JacklynnFrost
Summary: Zeldris, the Executioner, is after a renown vampire murderer but while hunting his mark another gets in his way, a woman who has bested him and gotten his attention. Gelda knows what she wants and isn't afraid to go for it.


_**Hunter's Mark**_  
Thank you to SinfulFics for helping me with this.

Chapter One: First Meeting

He stretches, his body honed and ready for the hunt.

The double-edged Daishō swords are crossed on his back and he deems those, along with the dagger at his hip as the only things he needs as he strolls from demon territory and out into the roaring realm. The perpetual night sky twinkles, the second moon raising and he sniffs the air. His black hair jostles back from the harsh winds of his world. As of right now, he is the master here, but when his father and brother return things will devolve once more.

As executioner, he commands respect and deals death to those who have wronged, and today he is after a Vampire who has killed a handful of higher level demons. The man smirks as he looks across the dunes. In the distance, he can make out the boneyard of twisting, naturally formed stone spires and the illuminating red molten river that trickled in a fork between the overgrown wilds and the distant mountain. He has a single mark, a target, and he has enough information to begin tracking the beast.

This man does not care so much about the annihilation of the Vampires, but more so the health of the realm as a whole.

The man hopes a wild monster would make the mistake of crossing his path. He is tempted to leak trickles of his power to draw out an indura, but he does not want to tip off his prey. The vampire has been slippery and he does not want to underestimate the leech. Besides, the dark-haired man feels he will have plenty of time to play once his mark has been thoroughly questioned. He just can't bring himself to believe Vampire King Izraf did not send this man to weaken them. Or him in particular as he is the last of royal blood who remained in this realm.

He tracks the vampire, edging into the floating stone ruins as he can tell the beast has recently found a victim or possibly is hunting someone, ironic as it is while being hunted. The landscape turns to cracked earth, the rocks jut toward the sky but under the ground level. He slips down into the maze of crevices, the red clay dust hazing the air. It's always dark, but this man has no problem spotting the little details, like a drop of blood on the edge of an outcropping, or the palm print a few paces forward. This man is short, built and strong, but keenly cautious. He creeps around each corner, listening to any sign of an approach.

King Izraf swore they would handle this, but after the last attack took out one of their top demon seeders, he has to get involved. He dips around another corner, wondering if it would be easier to climb the stone wall and hop from pillar to pillar in search of this vampire. His target has been here recently but the twists and turns of this place do not make his job easy. He is just about to come at this from above when he hears a solid thud and a body hitting the ground a distance to his right. A red, stone wall is between them and he knows if he barrels through it, it could cause a domino effect of all the natural towers falling on one another.

He crouches, following the noise with quick side steps, back to the stone and his green eyes scan the area while black leaks to take over the color. The scent of blood fills the air and a bleating scream, pained and panicked, rings in his ears. This propels his muscles into action and he flits up, jumping from stone crevice to rock formation before he spots who he's after. The man is in tattered red and black clothing and he is ripping at the throat of an animal.

This startles the executioner, his grip on the pointed, red stone slipping but he simply propels forward to the next sliver of wall. The vampire below is feasting on the beast and this man adds 'can drink any blood' to his limited knowledge of his realm neighbors. From what he can infer, this killer isn't the brightest as there are plenty of small cracks to hide in, and yet he chose the biggest area in this maze to let his guard down. He adjusts, hopping to a better position before dropping down into the open circle this crazed vampire has decided to have his meal in, aiming for his back.

He does not reach for his blades in his descent, as he's made his trajectory perfect for a collision course, but he doesn't make his mark. A body slams into his side inches before he reaches the feeding vampire. The two roll over, then again, and again as they each try to pin the other down. From the movement, all he can make out is supple leather and quick limbs. The vampire he would have caught is now alerted of the danger and makes a run for it.

"Bloody hell!" The executioner curses, springing away with a solid kick off the ground when he rolled to be on top. He comes to a stand, reaching for his swords with both hands, eyes roaming the arenaceous covered clearing. He needed to catch that vampire, but this new person is intent on getting in his way. A blur of motion whips by him, he catches a flap of braided blonde hair and a rear that rounded out her leathers beautifully. A woman had not only snuck up on him, but is now in hot pursuit of his target, in the lead.

He rushes after her, steps louder in his hurry and he grits his teeth over the fact that he can't hear her running steps. 'She's a skilled assassin'. The man muses to himself and forces his own movements to be concealed, sacrificing fractions of his speed. At the end of the towering rocks maze, the landscape opens to broad ruins that the wilds have started to overtake. Vines and brown moss creeping from the sloping cliffside that angles up to the beige forest.

Rather than go for the apparent trek up, he goes parallel to the forest, listening for any sign of that girl catching up to that vampire. He tries to think of any other prominent family or person who would hire someone to go after his mark, as he assumes no one would do this for any other reason. A little thrill thrums up his spine as he is in need of some entertainment, a challenge, and now he has a target and a secondary threat to worry about. A race to the finish, so to speak. He grins, teeth bared as he hup's out of the red rock's territory and into the powdered forest.

The tracks he looks for are the woman's and he notes that she is following the haphazard imprints of the crazed vampire. The red dust from their shoes leave a trail and he follows as the tracks enter the twisted thicket that grew here. Lava flows through, dividing the place in half. The trees are rough, gnarled and the shrubs are brown, the dirt is packed but the russet vines thrive, looping around anything that stands still for more than a few hours. Even the ground is covered in the hard thick creeper plants.

He flits into the wilds. He is close behind them, and, after a moment, he hears the start of a scuffle. He catches up. In between the trees, he spots her drawing her silver blades from her hip. He draws his own and as her arm comes down, seemingly about to stab the vampire in the heart, he throws his blade to clang into hers.

It connects with a harsh clash, her blade slipping from her grasp and flings in the direction his goes in. The woman, sitting on top of his mark, turns to look back at him, her pretty face morphs from shock to tense anger. Her purple eyes are narrow but prominent amongst the darkness around them. The vampire takes advantage of the distraction and in a burst of power, pushes her from him and even the executioner has to brace himself to prevent from skidding back.

Their mark has a few surprises up his sleeve.

The woman lands on all fours to his right, her back legs digging in and as he moves to give chase to the man they are both hunting, the woman swings up. She uses her momentum to roundhouse kick him in the side of the face, he's stunned and impressed, as she hadn't telegraphed her attack. He truly hadn't seen it coming. His back slams to the ground, eyes wide and she pounces, but he rolls to the side and out of her way. "That's my kill!" Her voice chimes heavy with determination and he scowls, his teeth gritting as he pushes up to a stand.

He's on the defensive, her body quick and lean as she springs up and goes for another attack. The woman sweeps her legs near his, snaps another blade free and he blocks, losing ground. She has an opening, a fraction of a moment to strike him with her blade but she steps back, ready but no longer instigating a fight. He shakes his head, his dark locks slick but he eyes the girl. She hasn't used any magic, but as he sniffs her he doesn't smell demon on her. At first he thought the vampire smell had been his target's scent left behind but with her alone he knows what she is.

"Why do you want to kill one of your own?" He sneers and she returns the expression. Her face hardens, but her violet eyes swirl with subtle interest as she eyes down his body in retaliation of him doing the same to hers. The man isn't sure if she is studying him because of his skills in their fight or if she finds him attractive, but being acutely aware of her, he does see her stare shift.

"Why did you save him?" She volleys back to him viciously, eyes narrow when he doesn't speak. "Don't pretend you don't know who that man is!" He doesn't deny it, but as she doesn't answer him, he doesn't answer her. The two are poised, at the ready, but neither makes the first move to strike. He has a sinking suspicion that she has been holding back as well. His interest is piqued as he can still feel the ache at the side of his face where she kicked him and he roams her body with his gaze just as she does his.

The two are in a standoff and slowly, the man straightens pushing his hair back with his fingers before scowling in the distance while taking his eyes off the vampire woman. "What's your name?" He asks and it takes her much longer to ease out of her fighting stance. He doesn't blame her for not trusting him, he feels the same way about her and it would be a lie if he said he isn't playing her.

"What's yours?" She retorts and he sighs, long and weary before giving her the most exasperating look. This is twice she has answered him with a question of her own. "Who sent you? You are overstepping, this is our responsibility."

He didn't want to argue rights with her, as far as he is concerned he can hunt who he wants and this job drew his attention. The man knows they have to start somewhere. He needs to know what she's after in order to find a way to force her to give up her pursuit. "Zeldris." The executioner tells her and he expects her to understand from just the name that he can do whatever the hell he desires. Zeldris is frustrated more so when the woman just stares, wearily, not recognizing who he is.

At first, he silently boils in rage but after a breath, he thinks maybe he can use her lack of knowledge to his advantage. "Well, Zeldris, sorry you wasted your time, but this is the end of the road for you. Go back, tell whoever hired you that your bounty slipped away and go about your business." He snorts through his nose, but the woman pulls out a palm sized canvas sack, shakes it to indicate the coin and throws it to him.

Zeldris side steps. The bag breezes over his shoulder to taps in a clang of metal to the dirt behind him. Vaguely he looks back to her with a bored expression. With her actions, he knows she thinks he is a bounty hunter, one that would give up his mark for so little gold. Perhaps another would view it as alot but he has piles of the stuff. "Go home, little girl." Zeldris condemns and he watches her straighten up with a smirk. He rolls his eyes walking toward where his blade soared to when he threw it.

The wilds are overgrown. The dull tans and browns meshing together but in the moonlight he spots a glint of metal. He picks it up and, of course, it's hers. It's ornate, the hilt carved and encrusted with jewels. "You must be very good at your trade." Zeldris quips under his breath.

"You don't know me." The woman retorts and he just resists his flinching response of unleashing his magic upon her. He hadn't heard her follow, but that act alone confirms his suspicions and he hands over the blade, hilt to her. She hesitates, slowly reaching forward as if expecting him to kill her at any moment. Impatiently, he pushes it to her reluctant hand.

He turns his back on her while searching for his own dagger. "If I wanted to kill you, you would be dead." Zeldris notes, confident and he expects a scoff or more of her sass but she is quiet. He rips the dried vines from his path, powder spewing from where he cracks the shriveled things, and embedded in the tree a foot away is his dagger, he pulls it free easily.

"You're an upper level demon." Her voice is curious and he looks over his shoulder, expecting to see fear in her eyes. Instead, his breath catches. The corner of her lips tip up, her eyes crinkle sweetly and her head tilt to the side as if she is trying to figure him out and finding it hard to place him in a single category. "Zeldris... I know that name."

He situates himself, finding her standing too close but he doesn't want to retreat. Instead, he raises his hand and pushes her out of the way with his palm on her collarbone. The leather is rich and he feels her, his pinky brushing against her soft skin. He hadn't wanted to recede from her but with that one touch he does, stepping back. His chest squeezes, eyes widen and he backs far enough away to escape her, walking to where this began in the clearing. "I'm Gelda," Her voice follows him and he looks to the dark sky in exasperation. His fist clenches before he loosens it, trying to shake the feel of her from the bit of skin that still tingles.

"Go home, Gerda." Zeldris commands as he picks up his target's tracks once more. She scoffs, just as he thought she would and he hates that he smirks to himself from the sound.

"Gelda. My name is Gelda." She reiterates, speaking to him as if he is an idiot. He honestly isn't sure if he's not. He stalks off in the direction the vampire escaped but after a few moments, he looks back. He cannot hear her following but there she is, mere steps behind. She smiles coyly as if she knows what she's doing. "I'm sure there is a way for both of us to get what we want."

Zeldris' spine shoots straight as he catches the undertone to her phrase. She's flirting, and he narrows his eyes in suspicion. She continues, "I just need proof of his death." Gelda steps forward, her hands behind her back as he holds his ground. It's not until her chin is a breath away from his forehead that she speaks again. "Can't we do this together?" The back of her hands graze down his arms until she pulls away, the tips of her fingers reaching his wrists. His eyes lighten to green and he's so shocked at her shift that he looks her in the eye.

The violet is soft, a lull and he feels himself slipping into a peaceful haze. She smiles, her lips plump and red. "Don't you want to obey me?" Gelda asks and somehow he wants to say yes. "Then give me your hands." He complies and when both his arms are extended she pulls out a thin silver chain. Zeldris can feel the enchantment on it and just as he fights her temptation, she scowls and drops whatever magic compulsion she just horribly failed at.

She jumps back out of his reach as he tries to snag her by the wrist. "I should truss you up with that!" He sneers, wondering why she used a magic ability so unnatural to her, as he could feel it wasn't her own. That alone saves her life, pegging her as desperate enough to make such a weak attempt at overpowering him and curious as to why she is.

"That killer is slipping away with all these stupid games you keep playing." Gelda scolded, straightening and returning to the tracks, stealing the lead out from under him. He's sure then, with her strutting hips swaying as they are that she meant to do this, the assumption isn't completely incorrect as Gelda is testing his limits to see how much he will tolerate and how much effort it will be to kill him. Her top goal now is to get Zeldris out of her way, while his shift to teaching her a lesson about toying with a Demon Prince.

"My stupid games!?" Zeldris hisses, despising that he's following her but as her rear moves in that tight leather his ire simmers to a manageable level. "What did you just try to pull back there? Some kind of magic trick!? You're a higher ranked vampire, or was that really the best you got?" He can't see her face, but if he could he would have known he hit a sore spot with her. Instead, he hears her scoff and cannot place her answer into a category.

"Can we just kill this vampire together. We can each take half his head back for whatever reward there is for his death." Gelda isn't trying to be quiet, knowing they fought each other for long enough that the vampire they hunted is gone from here.

"No." Zeldris concludes and Gelda's steps halts, her leg up on the roots above. She's just turning back when he smirks, overtaking her with a silent hop through the air over her head, to be in the lead. "I want to question him, a thorough interrogation done my way. After, you can do whatever with his body." Gelda catches his insult and mimes gagging dramatically in Zeldris' direction. But when the man starts off, creeping through the wilds she can't help but appreciate the way his body moves. She hates following his lead just as severely, biting her lip as she silently ruminates a plan.

Zeldris, inexplicably, is doing the same.

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Readers: I have no schedule to update, it will happen when I finish the next part so let me know what you think!


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